


soft as gunpowder's smoke

by Voidromeda



Category: Starfighter (Comic)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Implied Sexual Content, Light BDSM, M/M, Platonic BDSM
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-12-25 20:43:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18269033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Voidromeda/pseuds/Voidromeda
Summary: The whole idea's stupid. What the fuck is Alexei thinking? Going to a club like this? He doesn't belong here. He shouldn't be here.He needs this.





	soft as gunpowder's smoke

**Author's Note:**

> **Edit:** fixed some sentence structures. Added 2-3 new sentences. Fixed the wording. Tried to make things be in the same present tense more.

The club is a deep red, scarlet bleeding out into a pitch black, the chairs and every other décor matching the black-and-red colour scheme they are going for, and Alexei doesn’t know if he wants to bolt or if he wants to stay behind and see what happens. The lady at the front is nice, smiling at him all the while, and he wants to jump at her and claw her eyes out for wanting to make him feel comfortable. Everything about this place is making ants crawl underneath his skin, makes him want to curl away from the rest of the world, and he nearly bites straight through his lips at the frustration of it all.

This is a mistake. Everything about this is been a mistake. Sneaking out at the dead fuck of night to try and get off like this is a fucking mistake – this place is far fancier than he wants it to be, than he needs it to be, and he twitches, feeling out of place in his Fighter uniform and –

“Abel!” the lady at the front calls out, seemingly relieved to see whoever it is, and Alexei flinches. “You’re here – how was your time with Ethos tonight?” he shifts and twists a little to look at who it is that approaches and his eyes widen comically when he takes in the person who is _barely_ wearing anything. He almost looks like a stereotypical dominatrix, ones you see in apparently “vanilla” BDSM works – corset, garter belt and thigh-highs, and heels to make the already tall man stand higher. Yet, he has a leather jacket draped across his shoulders, his hair a blinding silver with a single blond streak, and he looks to be fiddling with some sort of e-cig.

“Great, he’s – he’s great as always,” the aforementioned Abel says, his voice a gentle breeze, a contrast when it should be gunpowder roughness and hard smoke clinging to his tongue, “he’s so sweet, June. You think he’ll let me take him out to coffee outside of the club?” the words roll off his tongue with sweet ease, the e-cig being set aside on the counter so that he can bend over and talk to the lady at the front, arms crossing in front of him. “He’s cute. And stressed. _And lonely._ ”

The lady – June – laughs kind-heartedly, pushing the e-cig a bit further away from herself before shrugging. “Don’t ask me, I’m not a psychic.” she teases, before she is running her hands through her hair and sitting up straight. “You have a client that’s been waiting for you for some time.” her words are stern now, all the humour draining away to leave room for professionalism, and Alexei tenses when she indicates over to him and Abel is dragging his dull-grey gaze over to where she is pointing. “He didn’t want to give me a name, but he’s new to the scene, so everything else is up to you. Treat him well.”

He hums and says, more to her than to Alexei, “I’m not a sub, and I’m not gonna-“

“You won’t be.” she interrupts. His perfectly manicured eyebrows shoot up in surprise, red lips pursed ever so slightly before his expression relaxes; it doesn’t comfort Alexei any as shame and humiliation burns him up inside. “He’s the sub. Get to work, Abel.” she doesn’t pay him any mind after that, going back to looking through something on her computer, and Abel grabs at his e-cig and twirls it around between his fingers.

It reminds him of that pen trick that he remembers Sacha doing when they are younger, his ever-silent friend smiling proudly as he demonstrates how dexterous he is with his hand before trying to teach Alexei how to do it.

But unlike with Sacha where seeing that little trick always made him grin and laugh, seeing Abel do it makes him almost shrink from the glint in the eyes of the predator in crazy tall stilettos wearing killer cat eyeliner. The e-cig is dropped onto the empty seat next to Alexei, and hands in fingerless opera-gloves grab at his knees and uncross his legs, allowing Abel to slide easily onto his lap and he jolts. “Hey, the fuck do-“

“Name’s Abel.” the dominatrix beauty interrupts with a soft purr, pure velvet instead of kind honey, and Alexei tenses up. “June says you didn’t give her a name. What do you want me to call you, sugar?” he leans in close, legs spreading out so that he can settle his hands on Alexei’s lap, and his fingers spread out on where his military uniform stretches out on his lap. “Or do you want me to call you Military Boy? I’ll forget very easily; lots of soldiers come here trying to get relief.”

Something about that makes him bite his tongue and curl his hands into tight fists, the beating of his heart slowing down to a frantic gallop instead of a ramming force. He almost wants to ask who else it is that is coming here, but something about the way Abel is eyeing him up and down – like something to be dissected and spread out on a clinical table – makes him swallow down whatever questions that are slamming against his ribcage.

Instead, he says, “Cain. S’my codename for missions.” he has to fight back the growl that wants to slip out when he slurs his words, sounding tipsy when he sure as fuck didn't have a drink of shit, and Abel’s lips quirk in amusement. “Serendipitous as shit, ain’t it?”

Abel raises a hand up, his nails as red as the décor, and he runs his hand through Alexei’s hair and ruffles it, palm sliding down moments later to cup his cheek. He leans in even closer, his breath mingling in with Alexei’s, and he immediately tenses up – his heart skips a bit, breath stuttering – and it hits him, then, how long it is since he last gets laid. “Very.” is the only thing the minx straddling his lap says, his body lithe but still strong – it makes him think of a swimmer, lean and hidden power instead of overt muscle and sinuous elegance paints him instead or rough tumbling, and Alexei exhales shakily.

“Do you know anything about the scene? And do you care if other people see you?” Abel’s words are firm, all the playfulness gone, and Alexei – he can handle that. He can handle bored reassurance instead of whatever it is that Abel is trying to pull over him. “I need to know if I have to explain anything to you.” he insists when Alexei apparently takes too long to answer, and he swallows his words down and looks down.

The corset’s lacy, matching panties do nothing to hide Abel’s body away from him, leaves him on absolute display, and he swallows down the heavy lump in his throat before he says, “I don’t know much. Just – just the basic shit you read online, I –“ he struggles to form the words, and the stinging shame is back – which makes no fucking sense. He is _Cain._ Cocksure, cocky as fuck pilot who doesn’t take shit from anyone.

He beats Praxis’ ass more times than he can count and is able to give Encke a run for his money when it has come to records. He is friends with Sacha for _years_ and manages to pick up a thing or two from the gun-nut, and everyone fucking _loves and hates him._

Nasty bondage shit shouldn’t be that hard. Yet his hands tremble, nails sink deep into his palms, heat burns up at his cheeks, and shame makes it hard for him to speak. Abel’s hand on his cheek is moving up to run his fingers through his hair again, soothing and slow, the dominatrix quiet for a while. “C’mon, let’s talk somewhere private.” he slides off of Alexei’s lap, offers him an upturned palm, and he growls and pointedly stands up without grabbing onto it. Abel stares at him, disapprovingly, and his posture stiffens.

“I’m going to let that bit of insubordination go,” Abel says teasingly, a smile tugging on his lips, “… don’t worry about it too much, okay?” he says again, gentler, before he goes back to June and starts chatting with her again, getting some sort of key-card from her before he is gesturing at him to follow. “We don’t have to start on anything tonight. We can talk, about your limits, safewords, light-system.”

He recognizes those – of course he does, what kind of idiot doesn’t? Those are some of the things he reads up on before letting himself even come here, having had weeks before his ‘appointment’, and Alexei both hates himself and is relieved that he chooses apparently someplace where _membership_ and _appointments_ are a fucking thing. This isn’t just some sleazy club, it’s a nice damn place and he feels out of place.

That feeling intensifies when Abel leads him through the ‘main’ floor, his eyes catching onto people in the middle of their ‘plays’, of people on – on benches, suspended in harnesses, and being led around by collars and leashes, and Alexei falters for a second. When he looks forward, he sees Abel waiting for him with a hand on his hip and his eyes half-lidded, making him look dreamy and ethereal. “On the first floor, people just engage in tame acts.” he explains, answering a question Alexei didn’t realize he wants to ask. “As in, acts that don’t require explicit sex. It’s so that everyone feels comfortable, test the waters, or just have mild fun.

“The second floor is where the exhibitionists and voyeurs go and have fun. The third floor is for private, appointment-only rooms.” nothing about his words are mocking or demeaning; it is almost like listening to some of the instructors list off facts, something boring and mundane, though nothing about this feels… _mundane_ in any sense of the word. He feels like he is taking a step into piranha-infested waters, not yet bleeding but in a position where he can get seriously hurt and attract attention.

“June had the courtesy to book a room for you already because of how you answered the online questionnaire, good on you by the way, so you don’t have to worry about another appointment. Follow me.” taking orders from a tall, platinum pretty boy dressed in stereotypical dominatrix gear, with leather jacket, and his e-cig apparently picked up again at some point, is almost too surreal. It makes his head spin, makes something pool in his gut, and Alexei inhales shakily.

Abel’s eyes twinkle, opening wide, and a smirk tugs at his lips. “What did I say to you?” Abel purrs out, “I said, follow me, right? And what are you doing right now?”

The answer is instantaneous, the words spilling out before Alexei’s brain can catch up with him, as he says, “standing like an idiot, sir.” his mouth falls open, then closes, and opens again – like a fish out of water, his mind reeling with him trying to figure out _why_ he addresses Abel that way, but the other man looks _delighted._

“Oh, perfect!” he lights up like the sun, far too happy that Alexei refers to him that way, and he offers his hand again. “Take my hand, pet, and follow me like a good boy up to the third floor. You can manage that, can’t you?” there is a part of him that wants to be aggressive, wants to bite at his fingers and then punch him, run away, and never come back.

The stronger, almost desperate part of him, however, makes him reach out to grab Abel’s hand, hold on tight, and the satisfied look on his face makes Alexei’s heart flutter. His mouth goes dry, eyes falling on the way their hands are joined, and he stumbles when Abel twists around and begins to lead him up the stairs. They are barely on the second floor, quickly passing by rooms where Alexei gets glances of the exhibitionists and voyeurs mentioned before, all of them looking otherworldly thanks to the red lighting falling over them, and yet Abel doesn’t give him time to linger.

His heart is hammering against his ribcage as Abel guides him to a room at the far left, sliding the key-card to unlock the door with a soft beep, and he is tugging Alexei inside of the room before punching in the command for the door to close on a keypad inside. The right walls are lined up with toys, a desk sitting underneath the toys with – bizarrely – hand sanitizer, wipes, tissues, a packet of condoms, and some tubs of cream on it.

This is actually happening. After curfew, where he isn’t even supposed to be here yet his superiors are willing to turn blind eyes because people sneak out every once in a while to indulge themselves on the weekends, in a black-and-red cliché of a BDSM club, with a pure platinum beauty sitting comfortably on the bed.

“Come here.” Abel says, patting the empty spot next to him on the rather normal looking bed, and Alexei is quick to obey and settle down beside him. A hand rests on the back of his neck, makes him jerk in surprise, and Abel shushes him. “I’m not a dom right now, okay? We’re not in a scene.”

“I fuckin’ know that,” Alexei snaps out, but even his own words ring hollow to him, his palms feeling clammy as he presses them together, “I’m not fuckin’ nervous.” Abel just hums, unaffected by his bite, and he can’t tell if that makes him angry or impresses him, because he wants to push him down and strangle him at the same time that he wants the dom to make his stress go away. “Are we gonna get on with the borin’ shit or no?”

Those fingers pinch him, mostly out of a gentle reprimand than any actual spite, and Alexei yelps regardless. “You’ve had sex before, I’m going to guess.” Abel says. Alexei gives a jerky nod. His hands wring together. “Do you know… the light system?” he nods again, and Abel purses his lips. “Say it for me, please? Just so that I’m sure.”

“Green’s good, yellow’s slow down, red’s stop.” Alexei repeats mechanically, feeling ridiculous with each word until Abel’s face is shining brightly with happiness and he feels less stupid, less like a moron out of his depth. “I gotta safeword too in case s’too much.” he almost adds as an after-thought, and the urge to just _run_ hits him hard and fast.

“When it’s too intense?” Abel asks, the smile on his face never going away, “I can get that. I have a client who couldn’t remember the light system when I accidentally pushed him, so I made him use a safeword instead for those specific moments.” he traces a circle on the fine hairs on his neck with his index, the touch annoying at first before Alexei finds himself relaxing from it. Repetitive. Reassuring. _It’s fine._ “I’m proud of you.” silk wraps around his voice, sinful and sweet, and Alexei tries not to gasp too loudly at the change in Abel’s character. “Mind telling me what your safeword is, pet?”

He thinks about the bastard’s face – his ugly, fucking face, sneering and dismissive, and that makes the curling heat in his belly ebb minutely. “Bering.” he spits out, the word poison on his tongue, and Abel raises a curious eyebrow – probably finds it odd that a name is his safeword, but he is wise enough to not ask. “I say Bering we stop fuckin’ everythin’. Means I want _out._ Got it?”

There is no heat behind his words, but he is trying to grasp at something, to feel less like a flowering plant dying in the desert, and Abel doesn’t rise to the bait. “And…” this is the part that he is trying to prepare himself for, trying to rationalize with himself that it is _okay, that he isn’t a freak for,_ even though it will always be something he is going to forever hide from people Sacha, Praxis, _Helios – god, he doesn’t want Helios to know._ “… I want… I don’t want – I don’t want the sex aspect, not really.”

Abel blinks, looking more curious and interested than judgemental. It makes it easier to keep talking. “I mean, fuck – ‘course I wanna get off, but – shit, m’not here for the sex, it’s just extra, yeah? _Extra._ ” it isn’t like him to turn down sex like this. “M’here ‘cause I want – want the punishment aspect. Loss of control. Humiliation, shame, want you to… to burn it in me, and…” he flounders, mouth opening with nothing escaping it, and Abel’s hand is back to stroking his hair.

“You want me to brand you with the punishment you deserve, edge and play with you,” Abel coos out, piecing together the thoughts that run wild in Alexei’s head, “and you want it to hurt so much that it feels good, right? Want me to break you down so you’ll build yourself back up.” though the look he shoots his way tells him, loud and clear, that Abel won’t be just abandoning him.

He is a good dom, is what he is trying to say with that brief look. Yet the only thing he can hone in on is the idea of it _hurting,_ of him being forced to take care of himself alone, and Alexei whimpers weakly.

This isn’t him.

“Don’t you worry, pet,” Abel coos out as he presses into Alexei’s personal space, leg draping over his, and his body lining up perfectly against his side, “I’ll use you however I’ll like, and you won’t do anything about it, won’t you? You’ll just let me take, because you know you’ve done wrong, and that’s your way of paying back for it.”

He grits his teeth, but doesn’t protest. Pretty nails drag down the front of his uniform, coming down to cup at his crotch and bring to his attention the bulge there, and Abel’s words are addicting venom when he whispers into his ear, “I’ll make you feel sorry, pet.” then there is something softer taking over, a kiss pressed to his cheek, and an apologetic, “I’m going to start light tonight, okay? Just an hour or so of teasing. I’ll stop whenever, just say the words.”

That isn’t what he wants Abel to do, yet something in him – even if he wants to chew the other out for being a pansy – can’t help but appreciate the care being given to him, the attention, and instead he just swallows, tries to wet his lips, and he immediately whimpers when Abel jumps off of the bed for a second.

A water bottle is pressed into his hands, a concerned look being given to him by Abel, and Alexei just downs half the bottle before settling it on the nightstand, his mind at war as he struggles to gather his wits about him.

“Green,” he finally croaks out, and the lipstick left behind by the kiss on his throat feels like a collar.

“Good, pet. Let’s begin.”

* * *

Being sore is common when you are being pushed to hell and back because of the Starfighter’s daily routines, added in with how Fighters have constant brawls with one another because no one in this fucking shithole can get along with each other. Well – he says that, but Alexei is finding himself relaxing around Helios more and more, the other Fighter almost too sweet and mild to be one. He thinks he will have been better as a Navigator, but being poor with no fucking means of getting proper education means Helios has to be in the same fucking air as Praxis.

Fucking Praxis.

However, that isn’t what he is focusing on right now – there is a pleasant soreness that tingles all across his body, mostly centred around his crotch because Abel decides that a simple cock-ring and a bit of orgasm denial will be a good first punishment. Torture with pleasure, he remembers that sweet voice whispering against his neck before he breaks Alexei open.

It is why he is able to sit next to Helios without being so high-strung that he looks ready to lash out, which means the other fighter is relaxing around him, and Alexei is chomping on shitty food while Helios stirs his cold soup. There are shadows surrounding his eyes, and Alexei bets he has his own but he feels perkier and more awake than Helios looks.

“Not able to sleep, princess?” Alexei asks, shuffling just a tiny bit closer to Helios, and he tries not to gasp when the other Fighter lets his head fall onto his shoulder. “Hey, I ain’t your bed,” he protests, but he doesn’t push Helios away, even as the other man is getting too heavy on him, “Jesus, the matter’s with ya? You’d think they’d put a pea under your bed, or somethin’.”

Helios smiles up at him, or at least from what he can see, and he can’t help himself – he rests his head atop of the other’s, feels his soft breath as Helios struggles not to fall asleep. “I had insomnia.” Helios explains. Alexei bites his lower lip so that nothing mushy spills forth. “Anxiety, like always.” Helios sighs, sounding so exhausted, and it tugs at his heart. He raises his hand up and freezes, realizes that he is about to stroke across Helios’ face and cup his cheek, try to comfort him with his body where his words fail him all the damn time.

His breath evens out. Encke enters the mess hall, and he gently shakes Helios. “Oi, captain Encke’s here.” he points out and Helios pushes himself away from Alexei and continues to eat his soup, even though he blanches and it is clear it isn’t as good when it is cold. He glares at Encke when he passes by, tries not to bare his teeth because Helios is right there and he hates it when Alexei gets in trouble.

Sacha isn’t here to bail him out either in case he gets in trouble, so the only thing he can do is just keep a hold on himself while Encke walks in between them all and keeps an eye on them, doesn’t even react to the many glares and huffs he get as he walks through, and Helios smiles at him.

“Thanks.” he says, and Alexei just shrugs.

“Sure, whatever. Didn’t wanna get in trouble, Deimos ain’t here to save my ass.”

Helios just hums, and when Encke is done with his impromptu inspection he rests his head back on Alexei’s shoulder and falls back asleep again. He ends up staying in the mess hall far longer than he intends to, just letting Helios catch up on a quick nap while they are still allowed the break, before he is gently shaking him awake again and beginning their next set of drills.

* * *

He comes back to the club two weeks later, having made the appointment on that first night, and Abel is waiting for him at the ‘lobby’ of the club while smoking his e-cig. He exhales out the white cloud up into the air, mouth opening while pale wisps flow backwards and then are blown upwards, and Alexei isn’t wearing his military uniform this time. He is in his civvies, tight leather pants and a tight sleeveless tee, just to show off – to who? He doesn’t know.

Abel turns to face him, having inhaled another drag from the e-cig and he looks away from Alexei before he exhales again.

“What flavour is that?” he asks, though he isn’t really looking at the e-cig – he is staring at Abel’s lips instead, at the fact that they are a subtler pink, his nails painted black as his fingers curl around the e-cigarette, and he tries to keep his eyes from lingering down to his exposed pecs. He stares at the collar resting on Abel’s neck instead, the dark leather a stark contrast to his milky skin.

“Apple, apparently.” Abel tells him, but then he puts the e-cig away and there is still a bit of smoke flowing out of his mouth and towards the back. The smoke strokes across his cheeks and curls up into the air. “You’re back, pet. I expected June to tell me you cancelled.”

“I ain’t a coward.”

“But you’re proud.”

He can’t say anything to that. He snarls and drags the back of his palm across his mouth, eyes drifting away from Abel and staring at the wall to the right – stares at the painting of a woman with her back arched, naked and her nipples perked, her vulva swollen, and he hears the clicking of Abel’s heels as he approaches Alexei.

“Pet,” Abel says, voice gentle and welcoming, not the domineering, authoritative lilt it takes on when they are in the middle of a scene, “is today a good day? I won’t be upset if you can’t make it today.” he doesn’t like the idea of that, the thought of having made Abel waste his time settles uneasy in Alexei’s belly. “I won’t be mad or upset, Cain.” Abel says again, a repeat reassurance that is wholly unnecessary.

His throat feels dry, his cheeks feeling far too hot – his confident façade shaking, cracks appearing on his mask as he turns to face Abel and says, in a small voice, “I want to be good for you, sir.”

There is a sticky kiss pressed against the corner of his mouth, glossy lips lingering for a few moments before Abel is backing away; he runs his palm down Alexei’s front, feeling at what little his shirt is hiding away, and he gives an amused smile. “You look good like this, pet.” Abel praises, his words honeyed and kind, and Alexei swallows down the whimper crawling up his throat. “Let’s go to our room, hm? We’re going to try the cock-ring again tonight, and okay?”

A sarcastic quip sits on the tip of his tongue and Alexei grits his teeth, huffs a few times, feeling like a boar almost, and Abel just watches him with laughter dancing in the gleam of his eyes. “Sir,” Alexei finally manages out, “why’re we goin’ so slow?” he doesn’t know if this is a question in or out of scene, but the amusement on his lips turns gentle, a kind smile meant for comfort.

He hates how disarming it is.

“I know you’re a soldier and all, but this is – well, this is for you, right?” Abel says more than he asks, “we can’t just go in hard and fast, we have to experiment around and see what this brings us. You know?”

Honestly? He does. He gets it. Sacha and Helios both come to mind; Sacha has always been jumpy, a hand on his pocketknife [and now on his handgun] just in case someone agitates him so much, and Helios still struggles with whatever anxieties that have plagued him from outside the base. Alexei isn’t one to take it slow, always wanting to bull rush in and go out with a _bang_ of glory.

But this much? He actually gets it. He doesn’t say anything back to Abel, his eyes casting downwards as something sour settles on the tip of his tongue. Long fingers curl around his chin and he is yanked up, forced to look up into those intense eyes. “Don’t look away from me, pet.” Abel chastises. “You are to look at me unless I say otherwise. Let’s go, I’m in a _mood_ and I want to take it out on you.”

Yeah.

This he can understand.

* * *

Helios has good hands, and Alexei isn’t saying this because he thinks he is a good shot (he is, but he has to be if he wants to get somewhere in this godforsaken fuck-hole) but because his hands are working _magic_ on some of the knots on his back. Helios is humming behind him, listening to Alexei groan as he kneads his back and gets rid of all of his tension, makes him nearly _melt_ right in front of him.

It is only because of the control that Starfighter shoves down his throat that he is able to keep himself in check enough to not freak Helios out by doing that. “You feeling any better?” Helios asks softly while his knuckles drag down the expanse of Alexei’s (unfortunately clothed) back, digging in and trying his best to make his body loosen up. “You should probably let me do this more often, you’re knotty as hell.”

“Thanks,” Alexei tries to snap out sarcastically, but he is actually feeling too good to sound like his usual self, “I might actually take ya up on that offer. Can’t take it back now, princess.”

Helios laughs kind-heartedly behind him, then quietly continues giving him a back massage until he thinks he is all done with him. He presses his thumbs into the back of Alexei’s neck anyway, makes him moan softly because that particular spot has been annoying him for weeks now. “I don’t mind helping you out,” Helios says softly, almost as if trying to conceal a secret, and Alexei stares at the wall ahead of them both, “do you want to join Athos and I later for some coffee?”

Alexei wrinkles his nose; the coffee shops around the base are kind of shit this week because of some sort of delivery problem, and the ones at some of the fast food places here are only marginally worse, but it is better than nothing. “Sure, whatever. No fast food coffee though, fuck that. Got more standards than that.”

If anyone is to ever ask him, he will tell them – vehemently – that Helios’ sweet laughter doesn’t make his heart flutter.

* * *

His next appointment with Abel is only a few days later. The scene this time takes a bit of a step forward – Abel adds spanking in with the cock-ring, keeping his blows only on his ass and away from places with blooming bruises from prior smacks; a dual sensation of _close, close, close, bound up, tight_ and of _stinging, hot, shameful, too much_ war with one another, his mind unable to focus on only one thing, and it makes a ball of _something unwanted_ claw its way up his chest.

The feeling grows worse and worse until there is distress taking over this time, and Alexei actually ends up crumbling from it and sobbing out a red into the pillows and begging for a quick break.

There is a sense of pathetic shame burning at his belly as Abel scurries away to grab some cream and rub it on his ass, on where he has bruises from Abel spanking him, and Alexei hates the way the tears are pricking at his eyes. “Do you wanna talk about it?” Abel asks some time after he also removes the cock-ring, his hands gently kneading at Alexei’s skin and being exceptionally careful around the still lingering red marks. “Can you tell me what made you want to red, so that I can be a bit more careful, or not do it again if you don’t want it?”

He almost wants to say that _nothing,_ that he is just being absolutely stupid and moronic and – this isn’t him, he can take harder shit than this. Made up of tougher stuff.

But when he looks over and sees Abel’s concerned face, his hands now moving up to stroke circles on his back, Alexei feels his resolve break and the stubbornness shatter into a thousand pieces. “It…” he struggles for a second but Abel is patient, smiling, looking lovely, and it makes it easier, “I – the denial and, the – the soreness was – I was focusin’ on both, an’ felt like I couldn’t keep up. I felt stupid-“

“ _Overwhelmed._ ” Abel corrects sternly yet not harshly.

He goes quiet for a second. Abel eyes him with concern, mouth opening to voice an apology that Alexei quickly interjects during; “yeah, overwhelmed’s better. M’okay with goin’ on, fuck I’m still hard.” he grinds into the bed as if to make a point and he gets an understanding hum as a response. “Just – no ring? And… next time, no – no ring either. Until I can handle it again...? Just - just for a little bit.”

The words feel like acid as they force themselves out, his pride and ego slipping away from him and jeering at him for being like this, for making demands like this – he is the _top fucking dog,_ has enemies and admirers alike back at the base, Encke fucking hates him but respects him. How can he be begging for something like this?

A hand runs across his hair, nails (the ones with nail polish are always fake; he leans that after the first session) scratching across his scalp and he blinks, blearily, up at Abel. He looks like the most demonic angel one can imagine in the room’s colour lighting, makes him miss the lobby because at the very least they both look normal there. “Colour?” Abel asks.

Alexei’s eyes dart away from him. He can feel the concern radiating from Abel as he mulls over it, considers whether or not he can continue.

It is almost a relief when “ _green,_ ” tumbles off his tongue, and Abel is back in the scene again – kinder, sweeter, leaving the ring aside and instead focusing on teasing for a bit longer before he lets Alexei get off.

This way, he almost doesn’t feel bad over him using red. Abel makes sure there are absolutely no regrets in the aftercare, where he allows Alexei the physical comfort he remembers crying for after the first session, and he just cradles him. Lets him curl into him, press his face into his pale neck, and Alexei feels small this way.

Even though he is broader than Abel. Even though he is stronger than Abel. Even though he is definitely more muscular than Abel.

It feels nice to be small, for once.

* * *

Making friends and enemies for him is as easy as _breathing._ He knows just how to wind people up and then break them after, knows how to make them sing his tune, knows how to do _fucking anything_ to make people trail after him desperately. Sacha is his first true friend, the one who stays with him without the admiration and fear mingling in together too much, and almost everyone else has just been someone he picks up and perhaps discards later for his own uses.

The military base isn’t really any different from his life prior; though, this time, he realizes that there are two people he really, really doesn’t want to lose. Sacha, of course, is a given; the mousy bastard knows him too well, and Alexei often relies on him far more than he realizes [and reciprocates it as best he can, which the former is always happy with]. Helios, however, is the odd one.

A nervous wreck coming from a poor family, chasing after something in military training that he thinks will make him feel whole again. He hasn’t told Alexei, Sacha, Athos, or even Praxis what it is that he is chasing after. It is almost like a joke that he is in the same division as Helios, though – Alexei fits in with the aggressive showboating better than Helios does, can rise up to the competition and beat anyone down if he needs to. He shows off and _basks_ in the praise, in being able to challenge his superiors and make them admit that he is good.

If he didn’t constantly mouth off, Alexei thinks that he will have gotten more respect than he does right now, but it is only because he is willing to fall into line with his orders that they aren’t trying to gut him for being a piece of shit.

Helios, though? Helios is almost out of place. Everyone keeps talking about how he should have belonged to the techy Navigators instead; the ones that are supposed to stay behind while the Fighters go off and do what-the-fuck-ever. Risk their lives and die trying to protect intel, or whatever else it is. Alexei doesn’t really give a shit, not about what happens to him at least. Helios, though –

He isn’t a violent kind of person. He uses it as a last resort, going against every expectation on how he is supposed to act within this social circle, which means that he endears himself better to the other Fighters than Alexei does. The type of attention he gets, though, is _almost_ genuine, _almost_ sincere, _almost_ real. Alexei revels in the fake, in the shallowness of it all, because that is what it is in the end. Shallow. This whole damn thing is shallow.

But then Helios grabs at his elbow, smiling widely and radiating sunshine, even when he still has the Navigator test rejection sitting on his shoulders, even when he has to accept that he won’t be what he wants to be, and asks _Cain_ if he wants to go out to the base restaurants today. “Let’s eat something besides the base food, maybe? It’s gonna be just us, though.”

There is a sweet, red flush spreading out across his cheeks that makes Alexei want to bend down and kiss him.

“Sure, I’m payin’ this time though.”

The smile he gets is painfully infectious.

* * *

When Abel brings spanking into play this time, it is without the cock-ring and Alexei is able to focus on that sensation better, now. He is able to focus on the way the smacks against his skin aren’t harsh, but they do sting – how they don’t hurt that much, but it is just _barely_ enough. He focuses on the way it makes him jolt, on the way Abel presses down against where his skin is going red, rubbing circles with his thumb before he goes and lands another blow on a part of him that isn’t stinging.

It has him drifting up into his own head, has him making noises that he will deny for the rest of his life making, but Abel doesn’t shame him for it. Abel just whispers, all battleground ash and hissing smoke, about how well he is taking his punishment, how good he almost seems, yet how he knows that he will just break the rules all over again and he will need to be disciplined all over again.

He feels like he is floating, soothed soon after by careful and gentle hands on his body, by the aftercare that Abel puts so much focus into. Cream is rubbed into his skin, his body cleaned up after with wipes, and he is always off-balance when he is made to sit up so that Abel can get him to drink something and try to eat some crackers. After, he will wrap his arms around Alexei and hold him close, stroking his hair, and being absolutely unbothered by the sweaty slide of their bodies against each other.

“You ever go through somethin’ like I do?” he asks after he gets a hold of himself, and Abel lets out a soft, curious ‘hm?’ “You called ‘em drops, right?”

“Yeah. You remembered.” he sounds happy about it, which makes Alexei want to growl and shove Abel away to cover up his embarrassment, but he bites it back. “You go through sub drops,” he says, repeating back to him what he already knows, “and I go through dom drops too, yeah.”

Alexei furrows his brow. “How d’ya deal with it? D'ya deal with it at all?” he doesn’t know why he is asking, but something about right now is making him feel oddly chatty, wanting to blab on about useless shit.

"Of course I deal with it." the hand in his hair doesn’t go away, still petting him, and he presses his face further into Abel’s neck. “I used to be given the more experienced sub-clients at first, the ones who were more than happy with helping _me_ get used to it. They would help me through my drops, back then.” he snorts as if that is funnier than it has any right to be. Alexei doesn’t really get it. “I mean… I already used to fool around with the other doms, you know? The ones who switch, at least. But it still hit hard, my first drop, but I dealt with it like how I deal with it now.”

“You get ‘em as often nowadays?” he kisses Abel’s throat, leaving little nips across his skin, and Alexei is grateful that the only thing his dom does is just purr and let him do whatever he wants. “Should I…?”

“Hey, you don’t worry about that, okay?” nails scratch along Alexei’s scalp, as if trying to force that errant thought away. “You’re still new at this, so when you get more confident and sure of yourself, we can try this whole reciprocation, take-care-of-each-other thing. For now? You just worry about your own drops, and I’ll go to the other doms or subs and let them take care of me.”

Something in Alexei unravels. Makes him sink into Abel, makes him pliant. “Am I doin’ good, then?” he almost slurs out, his mind drifting as he murmurs out the question as though he is sleeptalking, and Abel coos.

“Of course, pet, you’re doing so good for me. You always do,” he praises, “even when you’re being disobedient and bad, you always make up for it, don’t you? You’re doing good. C’mon now, let’s get you back to reality so you can head home, okay?”

* * *

Helios is smiling at him more often. Alexei takes that as a good thing, focuses on the fact that Helios seems happier _for him_ than _at_ him. It is the weirdest thing to have to get used to, to have to remind himself of, because he doesn't have a lot of people be happy for him. Mama’s dead and gone, pop’s died in service, ain’t got no brothers nor sisters to speak about, and the only person who shows him some sort of care and affection is Sacha.

“You seem less stressed lately!” Helios says to him, more excited for Alexei than he is for himself. “I’m – I’m really glad. I tried to ask Deimos if he knew how to help,” he raises an eyebrow those words and Helios pointedly does not look at him, “and he said that I should just trust that you’re gonna take care of yourself. Guess he was right.”

He leans in close to Helios, arms crossing on the table in front of him, and he looks up at him through his eyelashes. The flush on his face gets darker, makes him look like a strawberry, and Helios stutters because Alexei is right in his personal space – but he isn’t being pushed away. He can smell Helios’ breath, smell the mint from the gum he is chewing on earlier then spat into the trash, and Alexei focuses on his mouth.

“Hey.” Helios tries, meek and nice. Different from Abel. Different from the man he is submitting himself to now for some time. He looks at Alexei with those big, curious eyes; like he is the best thing Helios will ever eye on and he wants to know more. “I care for you, a lot.”

Embarrassment runs amok on his expression, makes him look cute, and Alexei reaches up with one hand and cups his cheek. “This okay?” he asks; Helios wets his chapped lips, chews on his lower lip a little, then nods meekly.

He bridges the tiny gap between them and kisses him where they are, sequestered away in a corner where no one will look their way and notice what they are doing. “So…” Alexei begins, trying to find the words, and Helios’ smile is shy. His eyes don’t look away from Alexei’s, no matter how red his face is or how coy he looks right now. “Wanna date?” he finally settles on that, with Helios looking ready to pass out from how much blood is rushing up to his head.

“Dating in the military?” Helios asks, but it isn’t unsure – it is just him making an observation, “well, as long as we don’t get caught for it… sure.”

Alexei has to tell him, at some point, the BDSM club he is going to for his stress relief. Has to explain to him what he is doing. Has to let him know so that they don’t have any bumps in their relationship going forward.

When Helios looks at him pleadingly, with teeth sinking into his lower lip, and exhales a soft, “kiss me again, please?” after, Alexei decides that that can wait until a few hours or so later.

Definitely today, though.

Definitely.

**Author's Note:**

> [ Pillowfort. ](https://www.pillowfort.social/transistor) | [ Tumblr. ](https://transistories.tumblr.com/) | [Twitter.](https://twitter.com/EmptyHeartLover)


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